The official road was desolate, with withered leaves swirling in the air. A carriage raced eastward, its hooves kicking up dust and gravel, adding to the bleakness of autumn and winter. Liu Yan had been galloping for a full day and night, certain that government troops must be in pursuit. However, he didn’t know that Jiao Shiqiao had personally arrived at the Dali Temple to interrogate Fang Pingzhai, and the subordinates had yet to report the newly obtained information. Later, when Fang Pingzhai, Yu Tuan'er, A Shui, and the others were rescued from the imperial prison, and Yang Guihua was severely injured, the Dali Temple was thrown into chaos, too preoccupied to spare attention for the countless suspicious figures passing through like a school of fish.
Tang Lici still couldn’t eat anything. The jolting of the carriage left him in a daze throughout the journey. Though he responded whenever Liu Yan tried to speak to him, his answers were always off-topic, as if he wasn’t truly listening. Liu Yan grew increasingly alarmed—Tang Lici truly seemed on the verge of death. The excessive blood loss, three external wounds, and Fang Zhou’s heart… these might very well take his life.
And Huijing Mountain—where exactly was Huijing Mountain? Even if they found it, where was the Bright Moon Tower?
The carriage raced onward. Liu Yan only knew to flee far from Luoyang, pressing desperately toward the mountainous regions to the east.
Far ahead on the official road, a lone figure walked forward. Liu Yan’s carriage was moving at full speed, and though he spotted the person, he couldn’t rein in the momentum in time. He strained to pull back the reins, but with his martial arts completely lost, his strength was limited. The frenzied horse was impossible to stop. As the horse neighed wildly, about to collide with the figure, Liu Yan shouted urgently, “Danger! Look out!”
The person on the road was a scholarly man in blue robes with a cloak draped over his shoulders. Hearing the warning, he turned around, revealing pale lips and delicate features. Seeing the charging horse, he flicked his sleeve. Liu Yan felt a sudden jolt through his body as the horse reared up with a long whinny, its entire body tilting sideways. In an instant, the carriage was on the verge of shattering. Then, the reins slipped from Liu Yan’s grasp. The blue-robed scholar swiftly pulled the horse back, restoring balance to the frantic steed as its hooves landed firmly on the ground. The carriage creaked ominously but remained intact. The scholar handed the reins back to Liu Yan and said calmly, “A runaway horse can easily harm others. You should be more careful in the future.” Liu Yan studied him—this man possessed extraordinary martial prowess yet looked remarkably young. Uncertain of his origins, Liu Yan muttered, “Thank you…” As the man stepped aside to let the carriage pass, Liu Yan suddenly asked, “Do you know where Huijing Mountain is?”
“Huijing Mountain lies fifty li ahead, within those mountains.” The blue-robed scholar pointed east. “Follow the official road at a steady pace—there’s no need to rush.” Seeing the man’s unshakable composure, neither surprised nor curious, Liu Yan couldn’t help but press further, “Are you from Huijing Mountain?”
“What makes you think I’m from Huijing Mountain?” The scholar’s lashes lifted slightly, revealing clear, tranquil eyes devoid of emotion. Liu Yan coughed lightly. “Just… intuition.” The scholar replied, “Your intuition is truly extraordinary.” Startled, Liu Yan realized this man really was from Huijing Mountain. “Then… are you the Golden Physician of the Bright Moon, Shui Duopo?”
“My surname is Mo. I am Mo Ziru.” The scholar said. “If you wish to see Shui Duopo, I can take you there.” Though Liu Yan had never heard the name “Mo Ziru,” he didn’t doubt him. “Your assistance is greatly appreciated.” Mo Ziru turned and walked ahead, his steps unhurried. Without visibly quickening his pace, he remained consistently a foot or two ahead of the carriage.The carriage and its passengers moved forward in silence. In Liu Yan's eyes, Mo Ziru's lightness skill was nothing extraordinary. If he hadn't lost all his martial arts, he could have done the same. But whether Mo Ziru was using his full skill or just twenty to thirty percent of it was impossible to tell. Since Tang Lici knew about the Bright Moon Tower on Huijing Mountain, did he also know this person? Liu Yan glanced back at Tang Lici, who remained in a daze beside the wooden barrel, seemingly unaware of their encounter with this peculiar green-robed scholar.
The carriage continued silently, turning onto a mountain path at dusk. The path was flanked by reddish maple trees. Mo Ziru walked at an unhurried pace, winding through a few small trails until they gradually entered a valley. Suddenly, the view opened up to reveal a vast expanse of water.
Mo Ziru stopped by the water's edge. Liu Yan saw ripples spreading across the surface, dotted with withered lotus leaves, the scene imbued with an extraordinary grandeur. In the middle of the water stood an ornate pavilion, exquisitely carved and painted—likely the Bright Moon Tower. Noticing Liu Yan's fixed gaze, Mo Ziru said, "That is the Bright Moon Tower." Liu Yan nodded. "Do we need to take a boat across?"
Mo Ziru shook his head and continued walking slowly along the shore. The carriage followed behind him. After circling more than half of the water's edge, the scenery abruptly changed—a field of mud pits stretched before them, pockmarked and uneven. Some pits were large enough to swallow the entire carriage, while others were mere inches wide, like footprints. Liu Yan was taken aback; such a bizarre landscape—half water, half mud—was rare. Behind the resplendent Bright Moon Tower stood a small courtyard. Though less magnificent, it was elegant and simple. Even from a distance, a faint, soothing fragrance wafted through the air. Mo Ziru headed straight for the courtyard, the carriage swaying behind him. Liu Yan carefully guided the horse to avoid the deeper pits, and after what felt like hours traversing the short distance, they finally entered the courtyard.
The courtyard was as plain and refined as it had appeared from afar, no different from any other scholar's residence. However, instead of flowers or plants, every available space was stacked with boxes of various colors, each tied with a ribbon. It was unclear what they contained or where the elusive fragrance originated. Mo Ziru pointed to a wooden ladder leaning against the rear wall. "To meet Shui Duopo, you must climb over here. This is the only way into the Bright Moon Tower."
Liu Yan was puzzled. "What?" The vast expanse of water outside—couldn't they simply cross it? Mo Ziru seemed to read his thoughts. "Shui Duopo dislikes others touching his water." Liu Yan looked up at the wall. The person living next door was truly eccentric. The water stretched dozens of zhang wide—was no one allowed to touch it? Mo Ziru added, "Though he dislikes others touching his water, he doesn't bother to guard it. But if you seek something from him, it's best to obey and not entertain other ideas." Liu Yan smiled. "I won't have any ideas. Everyone thinks differently—I can only control myself, not others."
"Mm." Mo Ziru's expression remained calm, as if his emotions were perpetually gentle—or perhaps nonexistent. "Climb up."Liu Yan let out a sigh. Climbing such a tall wooden ladder with just the strength of his arms was no easy feat, but since he had come this far, how could he not go up? He struggled down from the carriage and slowly moved to the base of the ladder. Gripping the first rung with both hands, he dragged his heavy body up step by step.
The ladder creaked and groaned under his weight. Liu Yan's hands trembled as he climbed, and when he reached the twelfth rung, he nearly fell. Hanging precariously in midair for a moment, he finally lost his grip with a sharp "thud" as he hit the ground. Mo Ziru walked back inside to pour himself a cup of tea, watching quietly as Liu Yan fell. "Only twelve rungs?" he remarked.
"Cough, cough..." Liu Yan's back ached from the fall, his vision swimming. By the time he blinked his eyes clear, Mo Ziru had already turned and retreated into the house. "Keep practicing," came the indifferent response. There was no sympathy, no offer of help—just the sound of Mo Ziru sipping tea inside. Liu Yan lay on the ground for a long while, staring up at the twelve-rung ladder. The height he had fallen from was at least that of a single-story building, yet the top of the wall was still two-thirds higher. The courtyard wasn't large, but its walls were built unusually tall. After resting, he began climbing again, this time much faster than before. Knowing his wrist and arm strength were lacking, he pushed himself to ascend before his energy ran out—otherwise, he might never make it. With both hands working furiously, he barely reached the twentieth rung. His body felt as if weighed down by a thousand pounds, his wrists trembling violently, causing the entire ladder to shake with him. Gritting his teeth so hard that his lips bled, Liu Yan remained oblivious to the pain, straining upward with all his might. He struggled to the twenty-seventh rung, more than halfway there, when suddenly— crack! —a sharp snapping sound filled the air. The world spun, and he plummeted downward, his head striking something with a dull thump . Dazed, he looked up to see wood splinters flying everywhere—the ladder had broken in the middle.
"Uh... don't blame yourself. That ladder's been on the verge of breaking for a long time." A voice suddenly called down from the top of the wall. Had Liu Yan not been so disoriented and blank-minded from the fall, he might have recognized the voice as unusually youthful, carrying a faintly delicate tone, like that of a twelve-year-old child. But all he saw was the face peering down at him from above the wall.
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